


The Feeling of Magic

by chucklingChemist



Series: Alternian Snapshots [2]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen, Magic, No Dialogue, fantroll, no canon characters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-31
Updated: 2019-01-31
Packaged: 2019-10-19 23:05:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,678
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17610749
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chucklingChemist/pseuds/chucklingChemist
Summary: After another sleepless day thanks to day terrors, Dontoc decides he may as well spend some time reorganizing the mess of a hive.





	The Feeling of Magic

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place a few perigees after _The World is Quiet Here_ , though you don't have to read that in any way to get what's happening here. Unless you want to. I'm certainly not going to stop you.

Had Dontoc had a full understanding of just how annoying it could be to avoid it underwater, he would’ve second guessed leaving. He never had to worry about things like how early the sun would rise that night, or inclement changes in weather. Living underwater, in particular in a city like Sindaria was like living in an artificial bubble where regular things most trolls had to put up with just didn’t exist. Sure, it supplied a wealth of other issues that would have ultimately resulted with Dontoc’s decision to be the same, but anyone from the surface greatly underestimated the sheer displeasure of getting caught in a thunderstorm while checking scuttlebug traps. He was subject to the same weather, the same seasons, the same winds and clouds and pollen that affected any non-seadwelling troll. As he got adjusted to the differences in living conditions, he found most of it wasn’t too bad. Annoying, certainly, but with practice he managed to figure out how to work around most of them. 

That is, with the exception of the brightness of the sun. The absolute harshness, even perigees after leaving, was impossible to compare to his old days in the seadwelling haven. While the city did make an attempt to brighten the streets for daytime to appeal to landdwelling tourists, the yellow lighting they used always stayed soft and fuzzy. But on the surface, on such a small island? The light was harsh enough to illuminate every speck of dust he had yet to clean out of the mansion. If he hadn’t already been suffering from insomnia ever since he crawled out of the caverns, Dontoc might have blamed his current sleeplessness on the sun. Who knows, it could still be the sun. Not that it mattered too much. What’s important is that he was now uncomfortably awake in a mansion he still hadn’t fully cleaned with sunlight making him extremely aware of both circumstances. 

With a heavy sigh, he made his way over to the upper west wing of the mansion. If he was going to be awake, he may as well do something productive. And while he had finished cleaning off surfaces and performing the minor renovations necessary to the wing, stacks of dusty tomes still took up more floor space than furniture. And to say nothing of the bookshelves. While each book was shelved away and relatively well-kept, there was no organizational structure to them. It was clear to him that if his ancestor wanted a library, he failed. This was merely a mass collection of books.

Dontoc stopped at the mahogany desk in the corner. Not only was it the only spot in the whole room that didn’t feel blinding upon stepping in, it was also the smallest stack he could make out. As he moved the stacks of books off of each other, he quickly realized why his ancestor left them back here. Most of them looked damaged in some way -- a children’s book sporting a cobalt dragon on the cover currently with a spine so damaged the book was nearly bent in half, an old novel about searching for a gambligant’s treasure lacked a proper cover page, a relatively new-looking hardback he didn’t recognize without its dusk jacket -- all of them in some level of disrepair. All of them except one. One book, underneath a whole stack of damaged books, bound in leather with purple and golden accents on the cover without a single sign of aging or damage: no yellow pages, no cracked leather, no faded coloration. Even the dust that covered all the other books back here was noticeably absent.

He pushed the other books off to the side and pulled the chair out just enough for him to slide in. Organizational time was over. Strange books always occupy his attention far better.

_Strange_ was probably the tamest way of putting it. The inside cover looked identical to the outside one but in grayscale, lacking a visible title in any form. As he thumbed through the text, it seemed to be an instruction manual of some sort. At least, that’s what he had to assume. There were numbered chapters with titles, but no table of contents or index. Not even any numbered pages. Blocks of readable text stood next to comprehensive, beautifully drawn diagrams. Paragraphs of traditional Alternian were interspersed with some sort of scribbled text he couldn’t make out. Yet, the longer he focused on the words, the more he realized he could understand it, somewhat. The symbols and shapes appeared to shift on the page, switching to something phonetic and readable. 

He gingerly let his fingers graze down a full page of scribbled font. There were indents. Was it handwritten? That didn’t seem right. Aside from personal journals, he hadn’t come across any sort of hand written books in the slightest. Dontoc flipped back to the front, skimming through all the first set of pages for literally anything to tell him a date or time of release. Nothing. Not even a signature of the original owner or author. For all Dontoc knew, this book could have just appeared in the mansion and his ancestor Duskfire would’ve never noticed it sitting here.

He flipped to the first chapter. It felt normal enough, if a bit dry. Like reading stereo instructions. It gave brief descriptions of the same level of basic physics he remembered in schoolfeeding juxtaposed with introductions of concepts he’d never heard of that refer to other chapters for more information (enthalpies? Energy transfers? He’d have to look into that later on, when the formulas weren’t swirling in his head.), next to talk of things like the classical Alternian elements, in particular one of the most powerful and dangerous magicks found to date: elder.

Dontoc paused, sucking in a harsh breath. _Magic_ , just like the fantasy novels and fairy tales he read when the instructors weren’t looking. Not just magic either, but dangerous magic. Magic that possibly hasn’t been touched in hundreds, if not thousands, of sweeps. He could close the book now and let it fester in silence. Might be the best idea. The secret could die with him and the mansion, however long that would take. Who would ever find him, or this book, all the way out here in the middle of the ocean, anyway?

Then again, one read wasn’t going to cull him. And if he didn’t continue to see if there was even a smidgeon of truth, who would? After all, he lived out in the middle of the ocean. No one could stop him.

He turned the page. The whole next two pages were nothing but the script symbology again. Dontoc squinted at the text. The blasted sun must have finally dipped behind some clouds, but the result ended up darkening the room to the point it was difficult to make anything out. Anything, that is, except a few lines of text that shimmered, pushing everything out into the background. The symbols stopped, freezing themselves into Alternian letters he could pronounce, even if he was unable to make heads or tails of what it said. Then again, the introduction said any basic mage could read the words on a page as a point of reference for casting. They didn’t have to know what the words meant. They just had to pronounce it and focus. Dontoc might not be a mage to any degree, but he could do that. There’d be no harm in trying it out before continuing.

He tried to start slow. He really did. Tried to take his time and work through it carefully. But the second he started, words he’d never pronounced in his life tumbled out of his mouth with ease. No time to process what came out. 

His fingertips went cold. Pins and needles exploded down his arms. An odd, unrecognizable sharp smell permeated in the room. Cleaning supplies? But he hadn’t done any cleaning. The light in the room dimmed further, the book became harder to read. But that didn’t stop him. He wasn’t even reading, wasn’t even _thinking_ anymore. The words formed in his head mere seconds before coming out of his mouth. Shadows danced along his periphery, swirling slowly closer toward the center. 

A blast of black and purple shot out of his hands. His chair rocketed backwards, slamming him against a wall and knocking him on the floor. He wanted to lift his hand up to rub his throbbing forehead, but his hand felt a million pounds. He couldn’t move anything, now that he thought about it. It took all his strength just to push up against the wall and hold his head up. The room felt dark now, but he wasn’t sure if that was outside or his own vision clouding. The only thing he could make out was the desk, smouldering a deep purple. Black smoke and scraps of paper pillowed from the impact. 

Goodness. He really did a number on the the desk. Might even have to replace it. He’d have to be more careful next time. Otherwise the whole hive might end up destroyed.

Dontoc closed his eyes and yawned. Distantly, a part of his brain screamed at him, telling him how it was time to worry. He just destroyed a part of the desk! He didn’t have any energy! He shouldn’t be staring at it in wonder, he should be panicking. But instead? He was tired. Tired enough he could just sleep right here. It wouldn’t be the worst place he’s slept. A little chilly, but that’s not a sin. Tomorrow he could think more about it. Actually study that thing before touching it again. Whatever ended up constituting “tomorrow”, that is. Must be how the land trolls think being in Sindaria. Tomorrow is just whenever you wake back up. Tomorrow is when he’ll read the book cover to cover. Tomorrow is when he’ll panic.

His head rested against the wall. The world stopped spinning. The terrified voice grew smaller and smaller until eventually, finally, Dontoc fully drifted off to sleep.


End file.
